Unchosen
by Hawkeing
Summary: We all know the story of the Amell mage who becomes the fabled Hero of Ferelden. But what if Elissa Cousland becomes the Hero instead? What happens to the Amell mage and those in her origin story? A short series focusing on the untold story over all three games. Possibly cannon (no evidence to the contrary).


Darkness ruled the expansive corridors, covering the tower in a blanket of silence. A pinprick of light penetrated the hall; a single candle carried by a young templar. The clanking of Cullen's armor echoed off the stone walls, making him wince as he marched to the apprentice quarters, sure he would wake the sleeping mages.

A knot tightened in his stomach as he approached the bottom bunk. Should he really be here? Barging into a girl's bedroom, however public, still felt inappropriate… brutish. But orders were orders, and if he didn't go through with them, someone else would.

She was awake. Of course, she was. Her legs hung over the edge of the mattress, messy black hair obscuring part of her face in a vulgar case of bedhead. Cullen had to actively thwart all thoughts of activities other than sleep that could make her hair look like that, and he thanked Andraste for the dim light that obscured the heat that rose in his cheeks.

"Cullen," Solonia inclined her head in a greeting. She was never this familiar with the other templars, a realization that sent a thrill down Cullen's spine.

"A-Amell." As a mage, Solonia no longer had need of a title, though word in the tower claimed she was of noble birth. Cullen had always been hesitant to call her by her first name as the others did, instead opting for the polite middle ground of using her last name.

"Is it time?" The mage's voice was steady, a certain strained aspect told Cullen she was more scared than she let on.

Why did the Circle force mages to go through this barbaric tradition? Yes, they needed to ensure mages couldn't be possessed, but Solonia, a _good person_, would be thrown to the wolves with nothing to defend herself, and if she failed to fend them off… Cullen didn't want to think about what happened then.

He wanted nothing more than to reach out and take her in his arms, or better yet, smuggle her out of this place. It was a traitorous urge born of dangerous feelings he'd developed quickly in the few months he spent in the tower. He would not give in. Instead, he held out his hand to help her out of bed. "I'm afraid so."

"I see…" The girl ignored Cullen's hand and stared at the ground, then toward the bunk of one of her peers. Jowain, Cullen had heard her call him before. "If anything happens, will anyone know what became of me?"

She wouldn't say _if I die_. Thank Andraste, she didn't, because Cullen wasn't sure he could deal with the possibility being put in words. "I'll ensure he does."

"Thank you." Cullen's heart fluttered in his chest when she took his hand and allowed him to help her up. He tried to let go, but her hold stayed tight.

"Please," she said softly. "Just indulge me this little bit." There was a steel in her normally bright blue eyes, but somehow the message still got through. _Don't let me face this alone. Please._

Cullen couldn't breathe, but his grip tightened. He hoped a crushing deathgrip translated to moral support. Was he holding on too tight? Still too loose? He was no good at this sort of thing. "You'll pass," he said, as much for her as him.

She rewarded his optimism with a beautiful smile; warm, but it didn't quite meet her eyes.

Cullen led her through the dark halls to the harrowing chamber, each breath strained and every step more hesitant.

Maker, he didn't want to do this.

Just outside the chamber, Amelle stopped and let go of the templar's hand. "Thank you," she said, too softly for anyone on the inside to hear. "I'm glad you're the one they sent for me."

What did that even mean? Cullen's heart pounded in his throat, but Solonia pushed through the doors before he could vocalize the question.

She carried herself like a different woman when she approached Knight-Commander Greagoir and Enchanter Irving. There was no uncertainty in her stride, and the way she squared her shoulders… Cullen had never seen a soldier carry themselves with as much purpose.

Strength. Bravery. Confidence. This was all she allowed them to see. Why had she let him see beneath it?

The Knight-Commander began immediately. "Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him. Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin. Your magic is a gift, but it is also a curse, for demons of the dream-realm – the Fade – are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway into this world."

First Enchanter Irving picked up where he left off, practiced words like he had gone through the ritual countless times. He probably had. "This is why the Harrowing exists. The ritual sends you into the fade, and there, you will face a demon, armed with only your will."

Cullen had been told early on that mages weren't allowed to know what exactly happened in a Harrowing, but was this really all the instruction they received? Still, Surania's eyes betrayed nothing. No apprehension, no flinching from her task.

Greagoir stepped forward then. "Know this, apprentice: if you fail, we templars will perform our duty. You will die."

Cullen's stomach twisted at the statement. He knew the Knight-Commander hadn't meant it as a threat, but under that tough exterior, the poor mage was scared enough without the reminder of what failure meant.

But all she said in reply was "Good."

Maker, even now, even when it was her life, she put others above herself.

The Knight-Commander motioned toward a large, glowing chalice in the center of the room. "This is lyrium; the very essence of magic and your gateway into the Fade."

The First Enchanter put a comforting hand on Solonia's arm. "The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child. Every mage must go through this trial through fire. As we succeeded, so shall you. Keep your-"

"The apprentice must go through this test alone, First Enchanter."

Irving frowned, but stepped back. Cullen wondered what he had been about to say.

The Knight-Commander looked to Solonia. "You are ready." Though it sounded like a dismissal, Cullen knew better. It was the same phrase Greagoir used on recruits when they mastered a new technique. The Knight-Commander believed in Solonia.

Solonia touched the lyrium. A bright blue glow started at her hand, then worked its way through her body. She went rigid, then fell to the floor, and Cullen had to stop himself from running to her.

"Sir Cullen," the Knight-Commander barked. Cullen froze, terrified the man could somehow sense his thoughts.

"Yes, sir?"

"This is your first Harrowing, is it not?"

"It is, sir."

"What are the consequences of a failed Harrowing?"

Cullen tried not to look at Solonia's crumpled form, or to think about what was going on in the Fade at that moment. "The mage becomes an abomination, sir."

"And what is an abomination?"

"A demon possessing a human body."

"What is the cure for possession?"

"There is none… The demon and its… vessel… must both be slain."

"Which is precisely why you must fell this mage if she fails her Harrowing."

The world seemed to freeze. There was nothing, no one, no sound but Cullen's heart and the catch of his breath. Maker, he couldn't breathe. "M-me, sir?"

"Yes, recruit. You. Though, I doubt it will come to that this time."

Why? Why him? Was this some sort of initiation rite? Bloody him up before he could be called a full templar? With a foul taste in his mouth, Cullen forced himself to incline his head in acknowledgment. "Of course."

But the Knight-Commander was right; it wouldn't come to that. Solonia was strong and brave and vibrant. She would never let a demon get the better of her.

They waited in silence for what felt like hours. After a while, The Knight-Commander stirred a few times, looking pointedly at the Enchanter, who shook his head, silently calling for more time. Cullen feared the Knight-Commander would command him to kill Solonia if she didn't wake up soon, and he wasn't sure he would do it.

When Solonia finally stirred, Cullen ran to her side. "Amell?"

She shifted from her side to her back with a moan. A moment later, she opened her eyes.

Cullen's breath caught.

One of her eyes was bright red, and the scarlet flecks were slowly invading the ice blue of her other eye.

_No. No. Maker, no._

The mage blinked, eyes almost fully red. Her hand stretched, nails hardening into inhuman talons.

"Solonia?!"

As Solonia's eyes focused on Cullen, some of the beautiful blue he'd already grown so used to returned. "Cullen?"

"She's still in control?" Greagoir sounded horrified. That scared Cullen even more.

"I thought he was a mage. I thought he needed help, so I tried. But now, I- Cullen, I can't fight him much longer."

"It's a losing battle," the Enchanter said somberly. "She's already possessed. It's a wonder she's been able to keep control long enough to warn us."

"Recruit, there is no cure for possession. It is a mercy."

"But-"

"Please." There was no fear or doubt in her eyes, only urgency, begging.

None of it was real. It was a dream. He didn't actually thrust his sword through her abdomen. The little gasp she let out as the cold steel ripped through her was just his imagination. A nightmare he would wake up from at any moment.

All the same, the way she smiled and whispered "Sorry," before she died shattered him beyond repair.

* * *

Chapter 1 of a short series. I was really interested in the fact that even though I didn't play as an Amell, Dragon Age II says she still existed, but failed her Harrowing. It really makes me feel crappy about choosing a character; like I'm choosing who gets to live and who dies.

And let's not forget what that means for poor Cullen. It really adds some extra depth to his character.

Please review! Getting feedback is what makes posting worthwhile! =)


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